


Watching the Stars Fall

by PrinceVenus



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Angst, M/M, iwaoi - Freeform, not your casual happy fic, with some other side appearances
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-02
Updated: 2016-02-28
Packaged: 2018-05-17 18:40:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,388
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5881432
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PrinceVenus/pseuds/PrinceVenus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hajime was just returning to his locker within the school to fetch his books after practice, when he recognised the familiar figure leaning over the general office window and…chatting amiably with the staff? He was just handing over a wad of papers when Hajime made up his mind, the anger seeping back in. Oikawa had been at school, and hadn't bothered to come to training, even to explain himself?</p><p>He better have a damn flawless excuse ready.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Lost and Found

**Author's Note:**

> remember when I said I would likely never write anything for this, much less publish any more than a single snippet? Yeah, well.

Oikawa was missing. Not the kind that drove people to pin up posters and search recent locations, but the kind that left the stomach unsettled, the mind unfocused. It's not like it was odd for Oikawa to miss school now and then; it was almost a given that he'd eventually get bored and skip a class or two. His heart had never been with studying anyway. But it wasn't like Oikawa to miss so many training sessions in a row with no notice. It set Hajime on edge, and the rest of the team could feel it.  
  
Hajime had waited in the gym most nights, long after his team members and friends had left for their homes. He'd tried turning the lights off, locking the doors, and hiding in the shadows nearby, just in case Oikawa was sneaking in at night.  
  
He wasn't.  
  
On the outside, Hajime was angry, furious even. He wasn't careful about it either, hitting spikes much harder than he needed to, and glaring at Oikawa's unused locker whenever he passed by. It wasn't hard to tell that it was a sliver of the real turmoil, but no one dared to open that door yet, not even Hajime.  
  
Oikawa wasn't answering his calls, wasn't responding to texts. When Hajime called past his house, there was no one home- or someone acting like there was no one home. Oikawa's window was on the second story, and Hajime wasn't quite prepared to climb that far…yet.  
  
Oikawa's mother had passed away when he was younger, a freak accident involving a bicycle and a bus. Oikawa's father had never been very present from the beginning, but he was even less so since the tragedy. Oikawa had always said he never minded, when his father had to take long business trips across the country, sometimes international, and that he knew he was still loved regardless. It didn't matter.  
  
Hajime had never liked this philosophy. While he could harbour some respect for Oikawa's mature way of going about things, considering his normal attitude to every day problems, he never was able to quite run with the ‘it doesn't matter'. Surely it mattered, when Oikawa had to return home to an empty building after a particularly rough day, with no one to support him, comfort him, even to just prepare a warm meal?  
  
Hajime tried to fill those empty spaces, and maybe that was why it didn't matter so much to Oikawa. It was one of the reasons he'd taken up cooking, studying it almost as hard as he studied for an upcoming chemistry test. But it was a flawed method of working, because regardless of the effort Hajime put in to creating an actual ‘home' environment from an empty house, it would never be enough to fill the shoes of a father figure. Hajime was a friend, nothing more, and when Oikawa shut him out, there was nothing he could do.  
  
The disappearance was taking its toll on the volleyball team, too. The players were becoming visibly less and less energetic with each passing day, and the entire ability of the team was steadily trailing down. They lost a practice match for the first time in months, and against a school that wasn't considered a powerhouse no less. It was plainly obvious what was happening, printed out right in front of them, but as they gazed around at each other, it set in that not a single one of them had the power to stop it. Oikawa was the one who could work the players to their best, who could sense the slightest change and fix them up. But now, it was Oikawa who needed that extra boost, and no one knew how to provide it.  
  
That's exactly why Hajime was going to break in tonight. It was a Friday, and there was absolutely nothing stopping him from hoisting himself through the bathroom window on the first floor, which was always wedged open just slightly. Oikawa had once told him about it, in middle school. Apparently he'd ‘accidentally' stuffed a coin into the runs, jamming it from closing completely for the rest of it's days.  
  
None of that was necessary, though. Hajime was just returning to his locker within the school to fetch his books after practice, when he recognised the familiar figure leaning over the general office window and…chatting amiably with the staff? He was just handing over a wad of papers when Hajime made up his mind, the anger seeping back in. Oikawa had been at school, and hadn't bothered to come to training, even to explain himself?  
  
He better have a damn flawless excuse ready.  
  
Hajime jogged to catch up, just as Oikawa turned away to head for the front doors. Even from here, the hobble in Oikawa's step was obvious, but something kept Hajime from shouting out to stop.  
  
It didn't take long to catch up anyway, Hajime's feet slowing to a stop, echoing throughout the empty hallway. Oikawa stopped, too, shoulders tensed like he was prepared for battle, and perhaps it was just that. He didn't turn around, didn't speak.  
  
The words, all the things that wanted to burst from Hajime earlier, they'd dried up and shrivelled into dust until he was left with nothing but dumb silence. It's not the comfortable kind of quiet they sometimes found themselves in, but one of unspoken grief. Hajime isn't sure why.  
  
He settles for just, "Oikawa."  
  
Oikawa flinches, and Hajime is left feeling like he's in the wrong here. Maybe Oikawa really just needed the time away, and this was intruding on-  
  
"Iwa."  
  
It's little more than a breath, but it's enough. There's no ‘-chan' tagged on to the end, and maybe that's what sells it for Hajime. He whipped around Oikawa's body, catching him as he falls like a limp cloth. He's conscious, Hajime knows this. But he's not okay.  
  
Oikawa sags against Hajime, fitting into every bend like they were two halves of a whole. His head is tucked neatly into Hajime's collar, ragged breathing tickling his neck, and tears leading sticky trails down his shirt. Hajime wants nothing more than to grip him tight, hold Oikawa close and never let go, but that's not exactly an option he can consider. Not an intelligent move, at least. There'll be one unlucky, unassuming team member who chooses to walk through the school after practice; there always is when something big is set to be interrupted.  
  
Hajime taps lightly against Oikawa's back, pushing him upright and practically hauling him towards the nearest classroom. He's fearful that Oikawa will tear like paper, unable to stand on his own if he's unsupported, and this much is true. He takes his arms away for barely a second to close the door behind them, and Oikawa's already on the floor. Hajime sighs.  
  
"You're not in your usual position," Hajime comments lightly, lowering himself gently to settle in next to the lump of clothes that is Oikawa. He's not even in uniform, Hajime notes.  
  
"Huh?" Oikawa asks intelligently, lifting his head from the floor where he's huddled to stare at Hajime.  
  
"This," Hajime replies, feeling a little better now that Oikawa was talking. Not much better, but it was an improvement from the silence at least. He gestures to Oikawa's curled in shape, side pressed flush against the floor. "You're usually slouching against a wall with you legs drawn in."  
  
Oikawa lets out a harsh bark of laughter, mingled in with a sob. "That's ironic. I probably can't even do that anymore," he says scathingly.  
  
Hajime has absolutely no idea what Oikawa's referring to, and he's not sure if he's meant to ask. Buying time, he pats his own thigh, the rest of his leg curled under. It's a voiceless offer that Oikawa would surely understand.  
  
Oikawa shifts slightly, lifting his head and dropping it on Hajime's lap, all but purring when Hajime absent-mindedly runs his fingers through Oikawa's hair.  
  
"You always were right, Iwa-chan," Oikawa sighs, balling his hands up against his chest. "I guess I should've listened."  
  
"Your knee?" Hajime questions softly, working his fingers to untangle a knot from Oikawa's hair. An rare task, for someone as dedicated to appearance as this man, but Hajime is resolved to try and understand Oikawa's position. Teasing him about lack of self-care is definitely not on the list.  
  
"There's a reason it never got any better."  
  
Hajime hums lightly, combing the brown mop of hair once more, searching out any other inconsistencies. Had Oikawa finally come to realise that the intense training regime he strived to complete was only going to-  
  
"Sarcoma," Oikawa whispers, his voice catching in his throat and producing an awful scratching sound. Hajime doesn't fare any better, although he struggles to keep his dread internalised. His fingers flinch slightly, the only outward sign he allows before he regulates his breathing and continues his pattern through Oikawa's hair.  
  
"How bad?" he asks, like it's a simple question on the state of the clouds today.  
  
"An ungraded tumour, and cancer, too. I'm.." Oikawa trails off, and even from his heightened position, Hajime can spot the tears leaking out from under Oikawa's lightly closed eyelids. "Surgery is tomorrow," he concludes.  
  
Hajime's eyes are closed now too. He doesn't want to bring it up, but if it's something that needs to be discussed… And perhaps it's better to talk practical options, because Hajime knows he's completely undertrained for an emotional discussion. "What about volleyball?"  
  
"They won't know until they see how bad the damage is," Oikawa chokes out. "I'll be able to walk, but sport…"  
  
Hajime's pulling Oikawa up with force, pressing their chests together and sitting Oikawa on his lap. It's the best he can do, as Oikawa's sobs become stifled in Hajime's shirt. There's nothing he can say to a man who's future, who's life, has been torn away.


	2. Pink Lemonade

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hajime can’t remember when the stars came down. He knows some just peeled away over the years, as to be expected, but someone must’ve actually put the effort into scraping away every single plastic star in order to rid the ceiling of all one hundred. The marks that were left, remnants of cheap adhesives, were only gathered on one side of the room, like the person had given up trying to scrub them away halfway through the job.
> 
> Hajime frowns. That’s something Oikawa would do.

Hajime isn’t sure when he wakes up. It’s one of those mornings, but he’s too emotionally exhausted to question just exactly how long he’s been staring at the ceiling. Before he realises it, he finds himself counting the tiny grey marks scattered across the white expanse, avoiding productive thought altogether.

There’s 46 marks, although Hajime knows there should be much more than that. He can remember the day he bought the glow-in-the-dark stars for Oikawa’s birthday, nearly ten years ago now. They’d spent the afternoon glueing the little green cutouts to Oikawa’s ceiling, grouping large clumps over Oikawa’s bed and scattering the smaller ones in the corners of the room. Oikawa had seemed genuinely happy that day, and Hajime had loved every minute of it - even the shitty music taste and countless injuries (chairs weren’t styled to hold two rambunctious boys reaching for the skies).

Hajime can’t remember when the stars came down. He knows some just peeled away over the years, as to be expected, but someone must’ve actually put the effort into scraping away every single plastic star in order to rid the ceiling of all one hundred. The marks that were left, remnants of cheap adhesives, were only gathered on one side of the room, like the person had given up trying to scrub them away halfway through the job.

Hajime frowns. That’s something Oikawa would do.

Without turning his head, he can see the outline of Oikawa’s body underneath the bed covers, curled away from the world in blissful sleep. Hajime knew just how easy it would be to drift back into dreams if he matched his breathing to Oikawa’s, pulling the blankets up high and turning face first into his futon. God knows how many times he’s done it before, even just to avoid a looming test for a little longer. But Hajime doesn’t want to fall asleep this time. It had been one hell of a night, and Hajime figured he’d be better off preparing for the oncoming day, rather than waking up and being thrown into the turmoil head on.

Stifling a yawn, he rolls over, kicking one leg out and shoving himself upright with a hand. He’s standing not a moment later, padding lightly over to the door and biting his cheek, praying nothing creaks or groans under his weight. Normally, he’d have no issue clomping around in the morning, sometimes even making more noise than necessary just to piss off Oikawa, but today’s a little different. Oikawa needs all the sleep he can get.

The entire house is quiet, eerily still, even though Hajime knows there’s at least one other occupant already awake. He hadn’t formally greeted Oikawa’s father, considering how quickly they’d both swept upstairs to Oikawa’s bedroom. Hajime had still heard him, though, muffled footsteps treading through the house and the smell of something cooking later on. Hajime had been glad he’d had the foresight to eat out that night, rather than sit through an awkward meal with Oikawa and his father.

Hajime hadn’t heard anything this morning, but he knew Oikawa’s father wasn’t one to sleep in. A business man like that is never resting for longer than he needs to. Hajime likes to theorise that’s where Oikawa’s annoying persistence comes from.

His first thought was proven correct when he arrived in the kitchen, where Oikawa’s father was settled in at the small round table, leaning over a cup of dark, steaming liquid. Neither acknowledged the other, even if there was no possible way to play off that they hadn’t noticed each other. Instead, Hajime moved to prepare a mug of his own coffee, helping himself to all the ingredients, even as Oikawa’s father’s eyes bored into his back. He set out an extra mug, tossing a tea bag in it before abandoning it on the bench and retreating to the table, opposite his silent company. Hajime knew the other man was staring at the empty mug, but he didn’t say anything, so neither did Hajime.

It wasn’t quite awkward as it was tense. Hajime would usually sit and read a newspaper, maybe finish off some last minute homework, while he waited for Oikawa to fall out of bed and crawl into the shower. Hajime couldn’t recall a time when Oikawa’s father had still been at home, late enough to witness the horror that is Oikawa Tooru in the morning. Hajime had never had to deal with having the man he so strongly disagreed with directly across the table, with no visible intention of leaving. Hajime wasn’t going to give up his routine, though, just because the figure was hunched at the table, watching Hajime like a rabbit might stare at a wolf. Hajime was ignoring this.

He’d never seen the man so haggard. With the few glimpses he got, it was all smart professionalism; suits and ties, hair slicked back and briefcase in hand. This man was nothing like that embodiment of power Hajime knew, the impenetrable fortress. He was in no place to judge, though. Hajime could easily imagine he looked just as worn out too, considering the fatigue that snaked it’s way around his body.

There’s pamphlets on the table, bright colours and bold words. Hajime is steadily averting his eyes from them too, already aware that they probably detail some things for Oikawa and his family, brochures full of soft bullshit words trying to define grief with a textbook definition. Hajime doesn’t want to see that right now.

He mentally starts out of his lulled awareness when Oikawa’s father breaks the silence. He’s thankful for the exhaustion in that very moment; he doubts he could visibly react, even if he wanted to. The caffeine hasn’t begun to work it’s magic on him physically yet, although Hajime’s mind is racing at a million miles an hour.

“Sorry.”

Gruff and blunt, and Hajime expects no less. He’s not entirely sure what’s being apologised for, though.

_Maybe he’s delirious and can’t tell which one’s his son anymore,_ Hajime thinks bitterly, but is cut off before he can continue the thought.

“I appreciate everything you’ve done, Hajime.”

Hajime cringes at the use of his first name. He’s not sure why, considering he’s not even sure if the man _knows_ him by anything but. Oikawa’s mother had been a familiar figure, enough so that she treated Hajime as one of her own, so it was by no effort to see how that extended to her husband. Still, they hadn’t spoken properly in many years, and the faux closeness was just too wrong for Hajime’s comfort.

Hajime grunts, because he sees no reason this man deserves a well thought out response. Hajime had been doing his job for _how long?_

Besides, it’s just past nine in the morning: there is no universe in which Hajime _wants_ to have a meaningful conversation at this hour.

“It’s been hard, you know, since his mother…left. I’ve tried to do my best, but sometimes, it was just easier to-”

Hajime tightens his grip on the warm mug, creating an audible twisting sound as he does so. It serves well to cut off Oikawa’s father immediately, although Hajime is already regretting losing his cool so soon. He has half the mind to tell the man _exactly_ what he’d been doing wrong for the last ten years, or the last three since he’d finally packed up and started travelling. He’d missed _so much_ of Oikawa’s life, all those teenage years of growth and development. All those volleyball games, where Oikawa put his heart out and worked until he collapsed. All those school fairs, academic achievements, the ceremony that Oikawa won the _best setter_ award.

Irreplaceable memories, but this man holds the title of ‘parent,’ which somehow gives him the right to waltz in, no questions asked. It’s despicable, and Hajime opens his mouth to draw in a breath before he really starts to let out his thoughts.

Except that’s as far as he got, because the topic of discussion is swaying into the room, making a beeline for the unfinished tea Hajime had set out prior. Oikawa doesn’t hesitate in pouring water from the kettle, like it was routinely obvious that the water is boiled.

Oikawa settles at the table between family and friend and toys with his tea bag, a dopey smile on his face. Hajime knows Oikawa is far too perceptive for his own good; there is absolutely no way he hasn’t already noticed Hajime’s tense hand laid on the table, or the way his father is sat stock straight in his chair like this is an important business meeting, and not coffee before work.

But Hajime is good at that kind of thing, too. Oikawa is looking just like Oikawa, which is entirely unusual for a Saturday morning, especially given the circumstances. Not that he doesn’t look _good_ , but hair pressed flat and heavily lidded eyes is just the way it always has been. Except for today. Today is the perfect Oikawa, the one who spends an hour in the bathroom styling his hair and shaping his nails.

Hajime can’t determine how long Oikawa has been awake, although it can’t have been long. He just hopes the bastard hasn’t been waiting outside the kitchen, listening to every word.

“What time’s your appointment today?” Oikawa’s father asks mildly, taking a sip at his steadily cooling drink, and staring guiltily over the rim of his mug. Hajime already knows what is coming.

“Three, but I’ve got to be there at midday. They’ll want to keep me in overnight, too,” Oikawa answers, lifting his cup and poking daintily at the ring of water it has created. He draw his finger back, tracing out a clear line towards Hajime. He’s panicking.

“I’m sorry,” his father begins, and Hajime raises his mug to his lips, glaring holes across the table. “I’ve got a meeting today, it’s important, I’ll come as soon as I can, I promise. I just can’t take you tod-“

Hajime slams his coffee down, letting it slosh over the edges as he shoves his chair out backwards. “I’m going to take a shower,” he announces bluntly, before turning on his heel and storming out. Oikawa doesn’t call out, or chase after him, and perhaps it’s for the best. Hajime is all but ready to punch a hole in the wall, and Oikawa really doesn’t need to see him like this, not now, not ever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *quietly screw up Oikawa's life more than necessary*
> 
> [tumblr](smolnerds.tumblr.com)


End file.
